


Tijuana One

by addictedkitten



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, M/M, car thieves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-03
Updated: 2006-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedkitten/pseuds/addictedkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Small glimpse of a car thieves AU. Jared and Jensen make a thrilling escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tijuana One

Tijuana late Tuesday, approximately one hundred goddamn degrees in the shade and here they were stuck in a room with no air conditioning, only a ceiling fan stirring the air above their heads and nowhere lower. Jared's mouth was dry and the sheet was sticking to his back and there was a faint sting in his lower lip. Felt like it was bitten half through, but things had gotten a bit heated. No one's fault. Well, Jensen's fault. Most things were. 

Ninety miles an hour they'd raced down the PCH, stupid fast only this time with a reason; fucking Jensen had to go and get photographed on a job, word was they were getting a warrant out for his arrest and it wasn't like Jared was just going to let him _go_. Hadn't even crossed his mind for a second, not when he was throwing clothes into a suitcase and not when he was switching seats and taking over the drive while Jensen rifled through his wallet for the fake ID he kept just in case. 

There'd been yelling, sure, one hot moment where he'd pushed Jensen to the wall and held him there and thought, _maybe_ , but then Monaghan was bursting through the door and hustling them out. Jared's heartbeat had barely slowed since, through counties and across state lines until they'd rolled into the dusty motel, windburned and tired and still angry at nothing in particular that he could name. All Jared wanted was sleep, a cold shower, a Valium, some goddamn thing to stop the thrumming in his veins, the jittery feeling running up and down his spine making his fingers twitch when he thought too long on it. Anything to quiet the urge to curl his fingers in Jensen's collar, leave fingerprint bruises on his collarbone, press him against the wall 'til his shoulder blades ached. 

He caught the room key Jensen tossed at him and headed out to the room, unlocking the door and throwing his jacket on the single bed. Accusations, reprimands, pleas rattled through his head like the car keys when he threw them on the nightstand. He barely knew where to start. Glass of ice water, that'd be the place, although god knew it would probably give him cholera or something out here; best to stick with cheap tequila. With limes, maybe, fresh citrus sting with the salt taste of skin beneath. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and Jared wasn't sure that was a good thing.

Jensen walked in and Jared's pulse sped back up as the door closed behind him, pulled shut by the dry wind, leaving them in the dusty half darkness filtered through motel curtains. They'd barely spoken since Jensen came barreling into their apartment shouting about cameras and silent alarms and Aston Martins and getting Jared's blood up in an instant, throwing out a thousand questions Jensen couldn't answer and trying to remember the important things in case they couldn't come back. Jared swallowed. In case they couldn't fucking come back; what the hell was he _doing_?

He looked over at Jensen, and Jensen looked back, his eyes wide and the sound of his breathing was the loudest thing in the room then, shuddery and fast and all of Jared's questions faded away. Everything was static for one long moment, and then he was holding onto Jensen, meaning just to make him stop looking like that, to take that _lost_ look off his face but then his eyes were closed and he was pressing his lips to Jensen's, closed and dry for one hot second until Jensen's lips parted and Jared licked his way in, his hands on Jensen's shoulders sending Jensen stumbling back with the force of it. 

They collided with the dresser and kept moving, Jared touching wherever he could, pressing Jensen hard into the wall, knuckles scraping against the plaster as he dragged the back of Jensen's shirt up, digging his fingers into hot skin, running his thumb up the lower dip of Jensen's spine. Jensen's hands were clutching Jared's waist, pushing his shirt up just the same and trying to pull him closer, sliding down to his hips to press them against each other, and Jared's shoulders seized with tension, needing so much, just needing.

His fingers scrabbled at Jensen's belt, unable to navigate the curves of metal and leather keeping him from getting at what he wanted, cursing the invention of denim and buttons and zippers and every goddamn thing standing in his way. He pushed his thumbs against Jensen's hipbones bruising hard and Jensen gasped. Eyes open, then, and Jared didn't know why he hadn't looked before now, why he hadn't let himself see Jensen like this, eyes wild and lips parted.

There'd always been this, waiting, ever since Jared walked into the warehouse, still bruised up from his last close getaway, and saw Jensen sitting next to Dom and thought yes, you, there. They'd both been drifting before, smalltime jobs, place to place without roots until then. Until.

Jared looked at him, his hands stilling for a second, said, "What the fuck am I supposed to do if you end up in jail?" and then didn't let Jensen answer, just kissed him again, eyes open this time. Nothing had made sense until he'd met Jensen and he didn't know what it would be like after this, if everything would go horribly wrong and they'd never get back. But what the fuck, Mexico had cars, they could be waiters, whatever, it wasn't like it mattered what they did. 

"I'm sorry," Jensen said, and for one terrifying moment Jared thought he would push him away, call this a mistake and run even farther, but then Jensen raised a hand to his face, thumbed the line of his jaw and kissed him again. Jared wanted to respond, but it probably would have been something stupid like "take your pants off" or "I love you," so he just kissed Jensen harder, tangling one hand in Jensen's hair while working on the pants issue himself (belt: conquered; jeans: resistant).

"Hey, you know, there's a bed," Jensen said when Jared decided that Jensen's neck was just obscenely naked without a hickey and set to work on that.

"Hey, you know, there's a wall," Jared pointed out, and was struck with the genius revelation that if he got on his knees he could work on Jensen's jeans with both hands, and that would solve all his problems. Well, okay, not, but- he licked his lips. One thing at a time. 

The floor was insufficiently carpeted and it kind of hurt Jared's knees, but then Jensen looked down at him, swallowed, and said, "Wall's fine," in a somewhat high-pitched tone that Jared intended to make fun of him for later, and all Jared could focus on was getting that zipper down and reaching in. Jensen was hard as he was, and it was comforting, sort of, to know he wasn't the only one wanting this so much, that even though they'd been here maybe six minutes it actually felt like about six hundred years in the very best most painful way possible. Jared unbuttoned his own jeans, easing the zipper down halfway for breathing room and stroking one hand up and down Jensen's cock.

He licked his lips again, and leaned in. It had been awhile since he'd done this, but it wasn't like it was a skill you could unlearn, and doing it was just like he remembered, only pretty much better in all ways because it was Jensen. Jensen, who looked down at him like he'd just invented fire and the wheel and electricity and sunshine, and Jared wondered briefly if it had really been that long for both of them. No, probably Jensen just liked him a lot. Jared smiled, pressed his thumbs into the hollows beneath Jensen's hipbones, and swallowed his cock down as far as he could. 

There was heat pressing in on him at all sides, the air heavy and still around him, his shirt sticking to his back, hands on Jensen's hot skin, and Jensen's fingers winding in his hair was the hottest thing of all, sucking Jensen's cock impossibly hotter than that. It would be really fucking embarrassing if Jared came just from this, but the adrenalin was still there, the tension ratcheting up from him finally being able to do this, and it wasn't completely out of the question that he would-

Jensen came, and Jared pulled back a little, not expecting it but taking as much as he could, looking up at Jensen who seemed pretty much gone. Jared hoped he wouldn't fall over. He eased his mouth off Jensen's cock and smiled up at Jensen, who blinked down at him, then grabbed a hold of Jared's sleeve and hauled him up.

"Bed," Jensen said, pushing him in that direction as they worked together to divest Jared of his shirt.

"So traditional," Jared observed, really only to rile Jensen up, because it had always been fun before and it was still fun now, even as the backs of his knees hit the bed and he sat down, letting Jensen push him back until he was up against the headboard. He kicked his jeans off, Jensen tugging his boxers down along with, and despite everything Jared was intensely, ridiculously happy, even though he felt kind of like a virgin on prom night and he wanted to come, like, five minutes ago. 

"Yeah, well I'll warn you ahead of time that I'll probably try and make you breakfast tomorrow morning, too," Jensen said, flinging Jared's jeans off the bed. 

"We're in a cheap motel in Mexico," Jared said, "What're you gonna do? Make me muffins?"

"Look, I could either make a stupid joke about love muffins here or I could give you a blowjob, did you have a preference? I'll just wait here 'til you decide," Jensen said.

"Love muffins doesn't even make sense," Jared said. Jensen looked up at him. "Blowjob, blowjob," Jared said hurriedly. Jensen bent down and Jared's hips twitched up, causing Jensen to place his hands over them, holding Jared down. Yeah, this probably wouldn't last very long. 

Jensen couldn't take it as deep as Jared could, but he made up for it, running his hands down Jared's sides and watching him as he sucked Jared's cock. Just the sight of that was going to be enough, but then Jensen licked his fingertip and pressed it up just behind Jared's balls. A little farther back, almost there, and Jared lost it, thrusting up and banging his head against the headboard and saying Jensen's name over and over until Jensen crawled up and kissed him, slow and good and still half-dressed against him. Jared felt really naked, but was okay with that. Although really only in the sense that Jensen needed to also be naked. It was way too hot for clothes, anyway.

He tugged at Jensen's stupid, irritating jeans, muttering, "Hot," when Jensen raised an eyebrow at him.

"Thank you," Jensen said.

"Shut the fuck up and get your clothes off."

"Sweet talker," Jensen said, batting his eyelashes at Jared, but he obliged, sitting up to take off his shirt and jeans. He sat there after, naked and looking down at Jared. Jared cracked one eye open and looked back. It had been a long fucking day. 

"Shower," Jensen said finally.

"Mmm," Jared said.

"That's an excellent plan, you should get right on that." Jensen got out of bed. Jared watched. "You know, you could go find us something to eat while I’m in there."

"Yeah, I am."

"You hide it well, with the lying there and everything."

"It's a skill. Don't worry, I'll go find something." Jared turned over on his back and stared up at the ceiling, watching the ceiling fan turning slowly. He could still see Jensen in his peripheral vision, standing naked at the bathroom door looking at him. They were in Mexico. They were so, so very much in Mexico. Jared didn't even speak Spanish. 

"We'll find a way out," Jensen said, and Jared saw his fingers tighten on the doorframe, remembered those hands on him.

"Sure we will," Jared said, but he believed it just the same.


End file.
